


trying to find my peace of mind

by alexmanes



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating (That Isn't Actually Cheating), M/M, Mentions of Alex's Traumatic Childhood, Mentions of Rosa's Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-12 05:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18004889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexmanes/pseuds/alexmanes
Summary: Alex doesn't understand why his husband has been so distant lately, but he's determined to get to the bottom of their marital problems. One way or another, he's going to get the answers he so desperately wants.





	1. Just Stay With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture a world where Alex and Michael's lives went a little differently. In this alternate reality, they're living their best life as a married couple who ditched Roswell after graduation. Only recently have they returned, which is when Alex notices something is off and Michael starts acting pretty weird. Alex has no clue Michael is an alien, let alone that he helped cover up Rosa’s death. Basically, this is a world where Noah doesn't exist and Michael has a spouse, not Isobel, so Alex is basically Noah. Also, the title comes from _Jet Pack Blues_ by Fall Out Boy, in case you were curious.

Alex wants to trust his husband.

He wants to believe that every night he accidentally wakes up to an empty bed, there’s a plausible explanation. That when Alex calls the university, only to find that Michael isn’t there when he said he’d be, it’s an innocent miscommunication. That when Michael narrowly misses date night and cites Isobel or Max as the reason, he isn’t secretly covering up a date with someone else. Michael isn’t cheating and would never entertain the idea, because they’re very much in love and Alex has more faith in his husband than that. It’s so easy to brush aside the inconsistencies when Michael is by his side, always whispering sweet nothings in his ear and doting on him to the extreme. When Alex is sharing a meal with their Beagle instead of Michael, or is set aside so Michael can rush to Isobel and Max’s side, or has to pretend to be asleep when Michael comes crawling back into bed, it’s a lot more difficult to let the unexplained incidents slide.

Of course, Alex isn’t stupid. He knows that his husband’s hazel curls and devilish grin are enough to have any man or woman weak at the knees. Back when they were just two stupid kids in love, it’d been Michael’s bright eyes and innocent smile that reeled in Alex, along with half of the girls at their high school who thought Alex was ‘just a phase’ in Michael’s life. If high school proved anything to Alex, it was this: just because people throw themselves at Michael doesn’t mean he’s going to take them up on their offers. Michael knows what Alex gave up for their relationship, knows that Alex literally came to him without a dollar to his name and nothing more than the clothes on his back because his abusive, homophobic monster of a father wasn’t going to let him leave with anything else. Michael had held Alex through the tears, promising that they’d get through this and leave their horrible pasts behind once graduation day arrived.

And they did. They packed up what little they owned and moved out to Albuquerque. It was far enough from Alex’s father to help lessen the sting of Alex’s childhood, but still close enough for Michael to keep in touch with Max and Isobel while attending university. Alex has always known how close the three of them were, so he wasn’t cruel enough to ask Michael to move any further. He was content with Albuquerque for the six years they called it home — hell, they even held their wedding there once it was legal. But then a local university begged Michael to join their teaching staff, and he couldn't pass up on the opportunity. The Guerins found themselves moving back to Roswell so Michael could take the job at Eastern New Mexico University, because Albuquerque is nowhere near as close to Portales as Roswell is. It makes sense to settle down in a city they’re familiar with, especially when an old family friend leaves you a cabin in their will and all of your loved ones still live there.

So Alex dealt with it, putting his love for Michael before the discomfort he’d tamed long ago. Besides, everything was fine and dandy until Liz came back into town. As much as Alex loves his best friend, he can’t ignore the fact she’s causing problems for his marriage, or perhaps he’s simply looking for a scapegoat to explain his husband’s finicky behavior. Once she rekindled her relationship (or lack thereof) with Max, it set off a chain reaction. Michael was coming home looking disgruntled and frustrated, citing Max’s issues with Liz as a source for his sour mood. Pretty soon, Michael was asking Alex to speak with Liz, to convince her to cut ties with Max. Yet he refused to get into why he felt so negatively about their relationship, even when pressed by Alex for an answer.

“I just don’t think they’re good for each other,” is all Michael would offer.

“But _why_?” Alex would ask. “Liz is a good person, Michael — and one of my best friends! She and Maria were my maids of honor. They helped plan our wedding, remember? You’re basically asking me to tell my best friend of twenty years, ‘Hey, could you stop obsessing over my brother-in-law because it makes my husband super uncomfortable and I don’t want it to ruin my marriage? Thanks!’”

“Okay, now you’re just putting words in my mouth,” Michael would scoff, at which point they’d begin bickering for an hour or two, eventually make amends, and try to move on from the argument the next day. It felt like the same fight took place once a week, if not more frequently, but Alex thought those petty disagreements were long gone.

Now? Well, he’s beginning to wonder if they ever really left. Maybe Michael’s been harboring some sort of resentment towards Alex the deeper Max has fallen for Liz, figuring Alex could’ve prevented this had he just said something to his friend. Or maybe seeing Max and Liz make up for lost time has convinced Michael to go after an old flame, someone he could’ve been with had he not settled for Alex. _Did_ he settle for Alex all those years ago? Is this simply something Alex’s paranoia is cooking up, or something he should genuinely look into?

“What do _you_ think?” Alex asks Shiloh, who’s taken to chasing her own tail. Now that Alex is up waiting for any sign of Michael, their dog is just as antsy as her owner. “Do you know why your daddy’s been acting so weird?” Shiloh finally stops chasing her tail and gives Alex a lopsided grin, but offers up no answers. “Yeah, thought so.”

The most logical solution, therefore, is to hit up the Wild Pony. It’s a quarter past one, which means he should arrive just as Maria finishes filling the last calls. Maria has a penchant for offering up sage advice no one asks for, yet everyone needs to hear. If Michael insists on up and leaving in the middle of the night, then surely Alex can do the same and head to her for some sound counseling.

"Alex!" Maria chirps, as happy as ever to see him. However, her joy soon gives way confusion. "What're you doing here this late?"

Alex simply sighs in response, not quite sure where to begin. 

"Right," she immediately responds. "Problems with the hubby. Want a beer while I finish up around here?"

"You know me so well," he replies, offering her a small smile. "I'll take a Heineken."

Alex settles down at the bar and is grateful no one else is sitting nearby, but Maria has a few other tables to clear out and drinks to ring up before she shuts down for the night. He tries not to bother her too much and even shoos her off on more than one occasion, not wanting to get between her and her work. 

"Okay, that's the last of 'em!" She eventually announces, locking the doors to the Wild Pony. She retreats to the other side of the bar to begin cleaning up, but stays right by Alex as she does so. "Want to _finally_ tell me why you're here and not at home with Michael?"

"I don't have a husband to go home to," he mutters, pausing to take a long swig of his beer. 

A flicker of concern flashes across Maria's face. "Where is he?"

"If I knew, I'd be dragging him back to the cabin," he says. "I haven't heard from him all day. He only had one lecture today, but I called the front office and they told me he cancelled the class. The only explanation I can think of is..." 

Alex hesitates, because what he's about to say is a loaded accusation and he's not sure how comfortable he is speaking it into the universe. As if speaking it into existence will somehow make it irrevocably true and lead him down a path of no return. 

"You think he's cheating," she finishes for him.

Maria knows all about the up's and down's of his marriage. Alex has never been particularly good at lying to her and she's one of the few people who'll reserve her judgment for when he's not already down. He feels safe turning to her when he needs to vent.

"Do you have any proof?" She asks, raising a brow. 

"No," he admits, "but what else would he be doing?"

"Plenty of things," she offers, giving him a knowing look. "I'm not saying this just because I'm your friend, but I don't think he's going to find anyone better than you around a town like this. He knows that, I know that — _you_ know that, Alex. Plus it's not in his nature to cheat.  We're talking about a man who has a picture of you and your dog in his wallet and shows it off to anyone who'll listen."

Alex has to admit that she has a point there, and thinking of that specific memory puts a smile on his face. 

"He's just been so distant lately," he insists, though seems a little less 'doom and gloom' with Maria's help. "Sometimes it's like he's on another planet, y'know? I even tried spicing things up in the bedroom—"

"How spicy are we talking here?" She asks, prompting him to roll his eyes and laugh. "Hey, you can't blame a girl for being curious."

"Let's just say I do _a lot_ of dressing up and taking charge," he hints at. Shortly after, his smile falters. "I never feels like it's enough, though. He's still sneaking off and coming up with excuses for getting home late."

"I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation," she insists, but Alex doesn't seem convinced in the slightest. No thanks to the beer he's quickly downing. 

“What if this is our version of the seven year itch?” He asks, the paranoia finally beginning to set in. “What if it takes gay couples longer to get to the point where they’re so unhappy, one of them has to cheat? God, what if I've been missing all the signs and there's another guy in the picture, but I've—”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Maria raises her hand, effectively silencing Alex. “Honey, do you see the way Michael looks at you? Like you’re his moon, sun, stars — basically his entire galaxy and then some?”

That gives Alex reason to pause. He remembers how Michael _used_ to look at him, but it’s been a while since he’s actually paid attention. A pang of guilt resonates through his chest at that thought, because that’s the sort of thing most spouses should do. He’s been so caught up trying to convince himself of Michael’s loyalty, he’s never stopped to look for the proof literally staring him in the face.

“I’ve never seen a man more in love than Michael is with you,” she continues. “Besides, all the married men around town come here to cheat. I’d know if Michael was one of them, but the only time I’ve seen him in here was with Regina George a couple days ago.”

“Isobel isn’t that bad,” he readily defends, already well aware of who she’s referring to. As far as in-laws go, Isobel is one of the best. While he and Michael were still living in Albuquerque, she made sure to come up and visit every other weekend. When they moved back to Roswell, she was the first to drop by their cabin and help Alex spruce up the place. If anyone can vouch for Isobel’s redeeming qualities, it’s Alex. “If you just got to know her, you’d see that.”

“She’s your sister-in-law. I’m not surprised that you’re spared from her wrath,” she teases, but clearly isn’t joking about her animosity for Isobel. “I still remember her reign of terror back in high school. She wasn’t a big fan of freaks like us. Not until you and Michael started dating. Then there was her whole thing with Rosa I never understood. Remember that?"

Alex remembers vividly, mostly because his relationship with Michael had led to a conflict of interest. He was dating Isobel's brother while Isobel and Rosa were tiptoeing around each other, leading to quite a considerable amount of disagreement within their friend group. 

“Rosa wasn’t a big fan of her either, was she?” He recalls, resting his chin on an upturned palm.

"I never understood those two," she wistfully sighs. "One minute they're best friends, then the next Rosa is telling me how much she hates Isobel. It was always a toss-up on how Rosa felt, but I didn't like that Isobel kept giving her the run-around. It's like she had split personalities and only one of them liked Rosa."

"Fair enough," he relents, because that relationship — or lack thereof — was one hell of a roller coaster from the outside looking in. He can only imagine how it must've been for Rosa, who was actively going back and forth with Isobel until her untimely death. 

"And when Rosa's funeral came around, where was she?" She continues, pointing the glass in her hands towards Alex. " _Michael_  was there, for crying out loud, and he barely knew Rosa. Poor thing couldn't stop crying."

"He cried for two days straight," he adds in agreement. "Probably because _I_ couldn't stop crying. Seeing me upset like that really screws with him, y'know? But he supported me through it. Honestly, I don't think I could've gotten through any of that without him."

"See!" She exclaims, wildly gesturing toward Alex. "For as long as either of us can remember, Michael's been there for you. If he was there for you when Rosa passed, he's in it for the long haul. There's no way he's cheating. If you're still nervous though, I'll give you a reading — free of charge."

Alex snorts, sliding his empty beer across the bar top. "Thanks, but I'll have to pass on that one."

"If you change your mind," she says, leaning over to pat his flushed cheek, "you know where to find me." 

"I know," he chuckles, "but I should probably head home. My guess is that Michael's back and I can start giving him the third degree."

"As you should," she encourages. "Let him know the next time he gets you this worked up, he'll have _me_ to deal with."

Armed with a threat Alex knows Maria will most definitely act on, he sets a twenty down on the bar and promises to fill her in on his martial problems come tomorrow. With nothing more than a faint buzz coursing through his system, he's gearing for a proper discussion in which he'll demand answers once and for all. It's the least Michael can give him. And truth be told? Alex still hopes for a logical explanation. He wants to trust Michael and his heart of gold, so long as Michael doesn't give him a reason not to. 

When he arrives home, Alex is dismayed to find his husband's truck missing. Two hours later and he's _still_ nowhere to be found, and Alex feels just about ready to cry in frustration. Ready to throw in the towel and admit that his husband's probably cheating on him. It stands within reason that Michael won't head to the Wild Pony to cheat, because Maria owns and operates the bar. Maybe he's taken to finding his hookups elsewhere, far from anyone who can report back to his husband. 

That night, Shiloh clambers up onto the bed Alex normally shares with Michael and Alex doesn't bother nudging her off. He lets their dog curl up where Michael usually sleeps, runs his fingers through Shiloh's fur when he should be running them through Michael's curls, and allows himself to drift to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Come morning, Alex wakes up to find Shiloh halfway on top of him and drooling all over his shoulder. He takes this as a sign that Michael arrived home in the early hours of the morning, but didn't have the heart to kick their beloved pooch to the floor. It doesn't make Alex's situation any less disgusting, however.  

"Ugh, _Shiloh_ ," he groans, gently easing the Beagle back across the bed. "C'mon, girl, back to your daddy's side."

Though he's groggy and can barely see through half-lidded eyes, he's acutely aware of the fact that Shiloh slides across the mattress with ease. There's no contact with another solid body, much to Shiloh's delight. Now wide awake, her tail thumps relentlessly against the bed and she rolls over onto her stomach, excepting belly rubs from Alex.

Instead, Alex is rushing up out of bed to confirm his mounting suspicion, stumbling into walls and nearly tripping over his own two feet to get to the living room. A neglected couch greets him, as perfectly arranged as last night, and the only car parked in front of the cabin is Alex's. 

"I'm such an idiot," he mutters under his breath, now standing on his front porch in nothing more than boxers and one of Michael's over-sized sweatshirts. He's thankful that they don't have neighbors nearby, otherwise they'd bear witness to the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

When he comes back inside the cabin, he makes a point of slamming the door behind him. Shiloh barks and comes trotting out of the bedroom, probably assuming an intruder has entered as opposed to her owner. The sight of Alex calms her down, however, and she moves back toward the hallway — but not before Alex catches sight of something clenched between her teeth.

"Shiloh," he calls out, but it seems she's acutely aware of being caught. Her eyes widen and she immediately takes off for the bedroom, prompting Alex to give chase. "Hey, bad girl! Get back here!"

It takes a considerable amount of jumping and dodging, but Shiloh eventually relents after a few moments of their cat-and-mouse game. When Alex produces one of her treats from the bedside table, the Beagle abandons her treasure in favor of the snack. 

"Finally," he huffs, plopping down on his bed. "Note to self: baby proof the cabin some more."

Armed with his dog's latest chew toy, he inspects what little is left of the item. It's clearly plastic, but she's gnawed and stomped on it so many times that it's hard to read the label or discern the original shape of what looks to be a bottle. Clearly it's something she got from Michael's office, given his field of study and love for all things scientific. Alex is ready to chalk it up as nothing more than trash when Shiloh, now finished with her treat, trots over to the adjoining bathroom and comes back with yet _another_ bottle. Still mangled like the first, but retaining its label nonetheless.

"Not so fast," he chuckles, scooping the Beagle up into his arms. She yips far too loudly for a Saturday morning and wriggles persistently in his arms, refusing to give up yet another one of her trinkets. "Really, Shiloh? You have a million toys in the other room!"

Eventually, she relents and Alex repays her with a scratch behind her floppy ears. She licks at his face while he reads the inscription on the plastic tube, having to fill in letters and words Shiloh scratched out with her teeth. Thankfully, it doesn't take very long to put the pieces together. 

"Nail polish remover?" Alex reads aloud, brows furrowing. As if Shiloh can speak to him, he asks, "Where'd you get this?"

As usual, Shiloh offers no answer other than what looks to be a happy smile. 

"Fine, take your daddy's side then," he teases, but plants a kiss between her eyes and sets her down to roam about the room. "I'll just go looking for myself." 

Disregarding Alex, she slides under the bed and procures another bottle to play with, though knows better than to let Alex catch her in the act. She rushes out of the room before Alex has the chance to even reach for the new bottle, but he has better ideas. Dropping to the floor, Alex immediately begins blindly reaching beneath the bed to see what his hand comes across. If she's got a stash, he needs to know about it.  

"What the..." He trails off, pulling two empty bottles out almost immediately. When he reaches back in, he finds another three stuffed into shoe boxes and old clothes that have been long forgotten beneath their bed. 

However, Alex doesn't stop there. He practically turns their house upside down, emptying out cabinet after cabinet, rummaging through room after room, until he's convinced he checked every last nook and cranny. There are over two dozen bottles in total carelessly strewn across the living room coffee table — some half-full, but most empty. Alex has no clue what any of this means, what Michael could possibly need with _this_ _much_ nail polish remover, but he suspects that the empty ones once contained liquor. And the thought of Michael possibly having an alcohol addiction starts to make a lot more sense than potential cheating. 

It's a Saturday and Michael doesn't have weekend lectures, which rules work out of the question. If he'd stumbled into the bar with someone on his arm, Maria would've phoned him by now — after strangling Michael herself, of course. There's an entire town and miles of open desert to explore, but Alex is willing to search every last inch of Roswell for his husband. Enough is enough. He needs answers, and he knows exactly where to start looking for them.

"Shiloh!" He calls, whistling for good measure. "Time for a trip!"

As expected, Shiloh comes dashing from wherever she was hiding. The mere mention of a trip is enough to get her energetically jumping up on her hind legs and pawing at Alex's pants, as if urging him to hurry up and get her out of the house. He can barely keep her still as he kneels down to clip her leash onto her collar, then she's barreling right toward the front door the moment she's hooked. 

"Don't you want to know where we're going?" He asks Shiloh, who stiffens up in anticipating. She looks up at her father with wide, curious eyes and cocks her head to the side, as if trying to decipher what he's about to say. "We're going to pay Uncle Max a visit at work!"

Something in Shiloh's mind clicks with the mention of Max, prompting her to make toward the front door and claw at the doorframe. Alex knows she associates Max with treats and belly rubs and playing fetch, seeing as that Max's one weakness is his four-legged niece.  No wonder she's so excited.

"Then we'll see if Aunt Izzy has any toys for you," he adds, assuming it'll take more than just Max to find Michael. At the very least, the twins might have the answers he's looking for.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Sorry, Guerin, but Evans called out sick today."

Alex gives Jenna an unconvinced look, arms stubbornly crossed over his chest. From where she's sitting at her desk, Jenna has taken to petting Shiloh and doesn't look bothered in the slightest. There's no reason for her to lie, after all, but Alex can't believe what he's being told. 

"Are we talking about the same Evans?" He asks. "Because the Max Evans _I_ know has never called in sick a day in his life. And I speak from experience — I had to plan my whole wedding around his work schedule."

"Trust me, I'm just as shocked as you are," she assures. "Pretty pissed too, but Evans said there's some kind of family emergency he's gotta deal with. You don't know anything about that?"

"No," he says, clenching his jaw, "but I'm about to."

Jenna clicks her tongue in approval. "What I'd give to have a front-row seat to the Guerin-Evans drama. Good luck with that."

"Thanks. I'll need it," he sighs, gently tugging on Shiloh's leash. "If you hear from any of them before I do, tell them to call me?"

"Will do," she agrees, tipping her hat for good measure. 

With his first potential lead quickly drying up, Alex figures Isobel is his next best shot at tracking Michael down. He leads Shiloh toward the front of the station, but she suddenly stops just a few feet short of the doors and begins growling low in her throat. She even goes as far as settling herself between Alex's feet, as if ready to protect him from an unknown entity. 

"What's gotten into you?" He asks, kneeling down to soothe the dog. No matter how many ear scratches and gentle rubs he provides, she remains on edge. He's completely oblivious to the fact he's no longer alone in the lobby, but Shiloh is painstakingly aware of her surroundings. She lurches forward and bares her teeth, nearly knocking Alex back from the force applied to her leash.

"Should I call animal control," an all too familiar voice asks, "or do you think you can get a handle on that dog of yours?"

Alex doesn't need to look up to know who he's dealing with. It's someone he's made a point of avoiding since moving back to Roswell, especially when the issues with Michael began cropping. Up until now, he'd steered clear of his father, but his luck was bound to run out eventually. 

"You know what they say about dogs," Alex throws back, not once taking his eyes off Shiloh. "They can sense evil. As far as a mile away—" Mustering up his nerve, he glances at Jesse. "—or as close as two feet."

Jesse chuckles, but Alex knows he's doing so to mock Alex. He's well aware that his father thrives off of getting under his son's skin, loves to know that even after all this time, Alex is still easily rustled by his presence. As Alex stands to his feet and tries to head toward the door, Jesse takes a step closer. It forces Alex to move back and allows Shiloh to get in front of him, her body lowered as if poised for an attack.

"I was wondering when we'd run into each other," Jesse admits. "Roswell's a small town. I figured it'd happen sooner or later."

The last thing Alex needs is to have a pseudo-civil conversation with his father. He knows exactly how this will unfold; Jesse will psych him out through any means necessary, sprinkle some thinly-veiled threats around for good measure, and probably promise to see Alex in the future. Knowing his ties with the military — because even after a teenage Alex went to them with the stories of his abuse, they did nothing but promote Jesse a year later — Alex is all too aware that his father _is_ capable of keeping tabs on his family.

"I don't have time for this," Alex snaps, already moving past his father and toward the door.

Just as he reaches for the door handle, Jesse grabs him by the wrist and Alex freezes up — a habit he still hasn't been able to kick, even after all these years. Growing up, firm and unexpected touches had always been _bad_ , leading to harsh beatings or scathing criticism. Either way, Alex wound up in tears and spent a few days in the shed to nurse his wounds and escape Jesse's wrath. It's the type of trauma he'll never shake, try as he might. 

"So it's true," Jesse remarks. Alex follows his gaze down to the wedding band on his finger. "You married him."

"I did," Alex confirms, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Made sure to change my name, too. I'm a Guerin now. Have been for four years."

Jesse spends a suspiciously long moment studying Alex's expression, eyes narrowed and lips pursed in careful consideration. Alex thought the dig might get a furious reaction out of Jesse, but his father remains eerily calm. _Too_ calm, if you ask Alex.

"You have no idea what you got yourself into, do you?" Jesse suddenly questions. He locks eyes with Alex, who looks on in bewilderment. "Maybe you do. For all I know, you picked _that one_ just to spite me."

"Right, because everything I do revolves around you," Alex snaps, finally yanking his wrist free from his father's grasp. "Don't flatter yourself."

Just as he pushes the double doors of the station open, he distinctly hears his father ask, "How's his hand?"

Alex is so taken aback, he stops in his tracks — one foot and Shiloh out the door, but the rest of his body stuck in awkward limbo. 

"What did you just say to me?" Alex asks, glancing back at his father. 

"I asked you how Michael's hand is," Jesse repeats, knowing exactly what that will do to his son. "How're his fingers holding up?"

In that moment, Alex knows there are only two ways this can go. The first is that he turns back around and instigates in a full-blown argument with his father, unleashing the harsh, bitter resentment he's held onto for a decade. The second is that he continues moving forward, in both the physical and emotional sense, rather than feeding into Jesse's attempts at goading him. He thinks of Michael — of the life they've built together, of the genuine happiness that comes with the memories they've shared — and the very real concern still at the forefront of his mind. Whatever reason Jesse has for visiting the station, Alex doesn't have the time to get to the bottom of it. And despite his father's cryptic jabs, it's not his problem anymore. _Jesse_ isn't his problem anymore. But Michael? Well, Michael most certainly is, and deserves his attention as opposed to a father who Alex suspects never truly loved him. 

So Alex does nothing more than sigh and let the doors shut behind him, leaving Jesse to his own devices. Hands shaking, he tightens his grip on Shiloh's leash when she tries making a beeline down the street and urges her back to his side. He's disoriented and puzzled, unsure of what he was doing before the bizarre confrontation or where he should head next, but he's got much bigger problems on his hands. 

And to his own dismay, Alex suspects this is only the beginning of his troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked the chapter, feel free to drop a kudos or comment, but only if that's what you're into. If you prefer other methods, you can privately hug your phone/computer close to your chest and whisper, "Thank you." I promise I'll hear your kind words, sense your gratitude, and smile to myself. Find me at [alexmanes](https://alexmanes.tumblr.com) if you ever want to discuss the beauty of Malex!


	2. Honey, Don't You Leave

The walk between the sheriff's department and Isobel's boutique takes Alex directly past the UFO Emporium — now managed by Grant Green, but a nostalgic stop nonetheless. Unfortunately, with Shiloh tugging him along and a phone pressed between his shoulder and ear, it's hard to take a trip down memory lane.

"I'm getting worried, Michael," he sighs into his phone, leaving yet another message for his husband. Though this one will obviously go unchecked like the rest, his run-in with Jesse has him desperate enough to try again. "Call me when you get this. Whatever it is you're going through..."

Alex falters, coming to a stop in front of the museum. His eyes gloss over the very booth he'd manned ten years prior, instantly drudging up some of his favorite memories. Throughout the entirety of junior year, Michael somehow convinced Max to accompany him to the museum once a week, but only when Alex was working. They'd loiter until Alex's shift ended and Michael would  _always_  find ways to convince Alex to join them. Like clockwork, Max conveniently made up excuses for leaving, thus allowing Michael some alone time with Alex. When home was unbearable and school was no better, Alex looked forward to the hours they'd spend talking about their problems or mapping out their futures beyond Roswell. The museum became their own private sanctuary. 

It was in the room full of replica flying saucers that Michael first kissed him. Alex recalls how his heart soared and threatened to jump right out of his chest once Michael's lips were on his. He'd initially been terrified of someone walking in on them before Michael pulled him within the safety of a backroom, and the rest became history. It was an unexpected beginning to a decade-long relationship; one he hopes to keep going strong, even in spite of his husband's secrecy.

Taking a deep breath, Alex finally wraps up the call. "We'll get past it. We always do." 

The final beep of the answering machine abruptly sounds off, signaling his message has ended and been sent. Pocketing his phone, Alex notices what sounds to be the tugging of the front doors, but no sooner does he move to look than Liz is stepping away from the doors. She looks like a woman on a mission, hands on her hips and a determined gleam in her eyes. Alex knows the expression well. He's seen it countless times before, though not as frequently as of late. 

"Don't tell me you're buying into this too," he teases, coming up beside her. "You and Rosa used to make fun of me for working here."

Liz immediately startles, obviously taken by surprise. Alex doesn't miss the brief flicker of fear in her eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. Now she's eyeing him up and letting out a small sigh of relief, as if she was expecting something far worse than an old friend. Then her attention is immediately taken by Shiloh, who's hopped up on her hind legs and placed her front paws on Liz's legs. 

"Who is _this_?" She coos, kneeling down to offer Shiloh a belly rub. Recognizing the delighted tone in Liz's voice, Shiloh is more than happy to oblige by flopping onto her back and exposing her stomach.

"Her name's Shiloh," he fondly explains, "and I think you just became her favorite person."

Liz laughs at that, gently rubbing Shiloh down. "When did you get her?"

"For my birthday a couple years back," he answers. "Mimi swore she saw a dog in my future, so Michael followed though with her prediction. I don't think he's been able to top this gift ever since."

At the mention of Michael, Alex notices the subtle shift in Liz's demeanor. Her back stiffens and gaze stays trained on the ground, but she continues petting Shiloh. Had Alex not gotten so good at reading people over the years, he might've passed it off as nothing out of the ordinary. But he knows better than that; knows _Liz_ better than that. 

"You two are pretty close, aren't you?" She asks, running her fingers through Shiloh's shallow fur. 

"With Mimi?" Now that the topic has shifted, a warm smile spreads across Alex's face. "Yeah, we are. Maria closes the bar early on Sundays and brings her over for dinner. Michael makes a mean brisket and I'm great at taking credit for it."

Despite his attempt at a friendly conversation, there's palpable tension mounting between them. Given how distant they've been, it makes sense. They've rarely spoken beyond running into each other around town, or because Maria corralled them together for a friendly night out at the Wild Pony. Alex knows he's to blame for most of the distance, but that's due to Michael's constant disapproval of Max and Liz's complicated relationship. Truth be told, Alex doesn't quite know where she stands with Max, but he imagines that it hasn't changed much these past few weeks. Probably means that Michael is far from happy with Liz. 

"That's... _nice_ ," she states, freeing Alex from his worrisome thoughts. There's uncertainty in her voice, but Alex isn't sure why. "I was actually talking about you and Michael. You two have always been close, right? Even after all these years?"

"Me? Close to the man I married? Don't know why you'd jump to a conclusion like that," he teases, hoping to lighten the mood. With a faint (albeit awkward) smile, he brandishes the very wedding band his father had been interested in. Rather than admit to their marital problems, he smoothly replies with, "We're doing good — great, actually."

Liz nods in agreement, but doesn't appear entirely convinced. Her pursed lips and narrowed eyes say as much, and she even goes as far as pausing Shiloh's belly rubs. The dog's head pokes up in slight surprise and a whine builds up in her throat, but she seems to be the least of Liz's problems right now. 

After a few moments of painstaking silence, Liz stands back to her feet. There's an uneasiness about her, almost like she's begun building up her walls and wants to keep her distance from Alex. Arms crossed over her chest and brows furrowed, Liz doesn't look half as friendly as she did moments before. He's got the feeling that the conversation is about to go downhill, and fast. 

"How honest is he with you?" She questions. Half-part accusatory and half-part concerning, the inquiry takes Alex by surprise.

Initially, he doesn't know how to respond. Liz has always been an upfront girl, never one to back down from saying whatever's on her mind or speaking her piece. That's not what shocks him. The fact she's masking a thinly-veiled accusation in the form of a question is what's so peculiar. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she seems hesitant to push forward. Rather than outright get to her point, she's tip-toeing around the conversation. Whether that's for his sake or her own, he can't quite tell.

"We've known each other for twenty years," he points out, fixing her with a knowing look. "We've been best friends for fifteen of them. If you have something you want to tell me, then you should just come out and say it. I'm a big boy, Liz. I can handle whatever it is you're holding back on. Promise."

"Yeah, well..." She starts, though falls short. "Who says I'm holding back?"

"What part of 'best friends for fifteen years' did you not get?" He counters. "Something's on your mind. I can tell."

"Am I that obvious?" She muses. There's a small upturn of her lips, but the half-smile drops the moment her eyes land on a yipping Shiloh. If Alex has to guess, he'd say it's because the dog reminds her of Michael. Whatever she's trying to get at, it must have to do with his husband. 

With that realization, he dares to ask, "Did something happen between you and Michael that I should know about?"

Worst case scenario, Michael's taken it upon himself to try running Liz off. Best case scenario — well, he's not sure if there is one. Regardless, he has a feeling that Liz knows something he doesn't. There could be some awful incident that took place between Max and Liz, or even Michael and Isobel and Liz, and no one's bothered telling Alex about it. Maybe if his alcoholic theory is true, then she's been privy to Michael's drinking problems and wants to let Alex know. 

Liz studies him for a solid minute, flooring him with a heated gaze. He feels as if he's under scrutiny; placed under a microscope while Liz analyzes every emotion to flicker across his face or his fluctuating body language. Liz's face is unreadable at this point and Alex awkwardly shifts from foot to foot, glancing at anyone and anything else that isn't Liz. 

"You wanted to know what I was doing here," she carefully begins. Once again, she spares a glance at their surroundings. When she notices a few people on the opposite end of the street, she steps closer and lowers her voice. "I'm here looking for answers about the alien who killed Rosa, and I think Grant Green has them."

Despite the severity of her tone, Alex can't help but laugh — and rather obnoxiously, at that.

"Wow, you really had me going for a minute," he concedes, placing a hand against his chest. Relief blossoms beneath his palm, because he thinks he can rest easy. Liz was just joking; she meant nothing by questioning him about Michael. "I thought you were being serious."

Liz doesn't look the least bit amused. If anything, she looks downright hurt, but soon the conviction in her eyes gives way to concern. Now she's looking up at him as if he should be pitied, and his nerves come back in full force.

"He hasn't told you," she murmurs. Her voice is so low, Alex can barely hear her. 

"Who hasn't told me what?" He asks, brows raising ever so slightly. 

"Michael," she mutters. "He hasn't told you what he is."

"What are you—" Alex is about to demand an explanation for her cryptic accusations, but she cuts him off by grabbing his wrist and yanking him in the opposite direction.

Without another word, Liz is leading them away from Isobel's boutique and toward the Crashdown Cafe just a few blocks over. A puzzled Alex and overexcited Shiloh are right behind her, given no choice but to keep up with her brisk pace.

"We have _a lot_ to talk about."

 

 

* * *

 

 

A quarter past four in the afternoon, Mimi DeLuca hears a knock at her front door. At first, she thinks it might be Maria, who must've left something behind in her rush to get down to the Wild Pony. Then again, her daughter would've let herself right in. There's no need to knock because she has a key, doesn't she? Mimi's pretty sure she does, or perhaps it's her mind playing tricks on her again.

Brushing aside her assumptions, Mimi peeks through the peephole to see a welcome guest. Alex is the son she never had and readily took in whenever his father was being cruel. If you were to ask her opinion on the patriarch of the Manes family, she'd readily call him every name in the book, but now is not the time for thoughts of Jesse Manes. The aura Alex exudes is concerning — denial, fear, and devastation all combined into one worrisome package. 

"Alex," she greets, opening the door with a warm smile. "Is everything okay? You seem... _troubled_."

In response, he laughs, but the joy that typically accompanies laughter doesn't reach his eyes. When she takes a closer look, they're beginning to water with tears left unshed.

"That obvious, huh?" He muses. Shortly after, he brings a shaky hand up to his neck. "I was hoping you could give me a palm reading and—" He hesitates with a conflicted expression etched across his features, outlining the stress weighing heavy on his heart. "—and tell me what you know about aliens?"

Mimi's lips purse in careful consideration. Every time she opens _that_ can of worms, her daughter grows exceedingly frustrated and Alex — along with that sweet husband of his — cast her sympathetic looks. Thankfully, Maria isn't home and Alex seems to be in need of some reassurance. Perhaps the same fate that befell his father has caught up with the next generations of Manes men. If that's the case, Mimi knows it's her obligation to steer Alex down a different path.

So she ushers him inside, insisting he let Shiloh roam around the living room while they make their way to the kitchen. The table has just enough space for them to comfortably settle down side-by-side, but no sooner has Alex sat down than Mimi reaches for one of his palms.

"Is there something specific you're searching for?" She probes, but his expression answers that question almost immediately. "Oh. This is about your husband, isn't it?"

Alex's eyes widen. "Did Maria tell you about that?"

"She didn't have to. Your face says it all," she explains, gently cupping his cheek. "I can't remember the last time your aura was this negative, especially when Michael's involved. You two are always so happy together, but..." She trails off, focusing on the crevices and slopes of his palm. "There's been trouble brewing. He's grown distant and you're searching for answers he isn't ready to give. You're at a crossroads. No, wait!" Tapping her fingers against his wrist, she corrects herself. "You're _approaching_ a crossroads. You'll need to pick a side and so will he. This isn't going to be easy for either of you—"

"This?" He repeats. "What's _this_ , exactly?"

"The fight you'll have tonight," she asserts, as if he should already know. "Nothing physical, but your words are just as powerful as your actions. Remember that."

Despite his growing confusion, Alex nods his head in agreement. "Anything else?"

"Find it in your heart to forgive him," she suggests, rubbing small, soothing circles into the back of his hand. "He'll come to you with the answers you're seeking, even if you're not going to be happy with them. It takes a lot of courage to do that."

Again, Alex nods. He may not understand any of this in the moment, but he silently reminds himself to heed her words when the time is right.

There was once a time where he didn't believe in psychic abilities like palm readings or aura cleanses or anything of the sort. Mostly, he went along to humor Mimi and Maria. Then again, there was also a time where he thought legends of aliens were nothing more than made-up stories meant to lure tourists into Roswell. How very, _very_ wrong he was about that. It's not too far of a stretch to think Mimi's powers are much more real than she lets on.

"See anything about aliens?" He boldly asks.

Mimi's taken by surprise — not by the question, per say, but by the shift in Alex's energy. 

"There's something you're not telling me," she states. "There's a secret you're keeping."

"Because I don't know if I believe it myself," he admits, unable to look her in the eye. "Still trying to wrap my mind around it."

"Alexander," she begins, grasping both of his hands in her own. She immediately takes on the tone of a concerned mother, as she so often does when Alex comes to her with his problems. Mimi's taken it upon herself to care for Alex when his parents can't — or in his father's case, outright refuse to. "Don't let this affect you like it did your father."

"Wait, what?" His brows raise up his forehead, only to furrow moments later. "What does my dad have to do with this?"

"I grew up with Jesse," she explains. "I knew the very day that he learned too much, because he came to school with the darkest energy around him. It was energy from another place, and I—" Mimi hesitates, fingers tightening around Alex's. "I see the beginnings of it in you. The moment I opened that front door, I could tell something was weighing heavy on your heart. Something not of this world. Something that's going to eat you alive if you let it."

Alex tries to pry his hand away, clearly spooked by what Mimi is saying, but she has a firm grip and an even stronger conviction. 

"We aren't meant to touch things from another world," she insists, "but when we do, we're given a choice. We can let that other world creep into us, makes us ugly inside until the worst pieces of our spirit take over. Or we can come to terms with what we've seen and the part we play in its existence."

When she finally releases his hand, Mimi cups Alex's cheeks between her palms and gives him no choice but to meet her gaze. 

"Don't let this consume you the way it consumed your father," she implores. As if nothing more than an afterthought, she quietly adds, "And poor, sweet Jim Valenti."

"Jim Valenti?" He repeats. "What does he have to do with any of this?"

Mimi falls silent for a moment, just as memories of the Sheriff float to the surface of her mind. Her nose scrunches up in distaste and she can't help rolling her eyes, but she offers little more than a scoff to Alex's question. Last she checked, the Sheriff was cheating on his poor wife. Mimi had seen as much when he stumbled into the Wild Pony with yet another woman on his arm. Why was it that all the married men around town took to _her_ bar for their illicit rendezvous? 

"Ugh, Jim Valenti," she groans, rolling her eyes. "You know he cheats on his wife, right? Someone should tell her."

A small frown settles across Alex's face, but it's nothing compared to his aura. Mimi is about to ask why he looks so troubled, but finds herself being enveloped in a tight embrace instead. When Alex pulls back, Mimi realizes there are a few tears trickling down his cheeks. 

"Is everything okay, sweetie?" She murmurs, rubbing her thumbs across his skin. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," he reassures, even as he sniffles. Pecking her on the cheek, he says, "Thanks for the reading, Mimi, but I should go. I have some stuff to take care of. Can I leave Shiloh here for the night, though?"

"Shiloh? Oh, right!" She exclaims, laughing at her brief lapse in memory. How could she forget that little Beagle of his? "Of course, Alex. I take it you and Michael want some alone time? Maybe a date night without any interruptions?"

"Something like that," he confirms, pulling off a convincing smile. "When you drop by on Sunday, I'll tell you all about it."

None the wiser, Mimi readily agrees to discuss his date night in the coming days, even going as far as ensuring Michael will make his infamous brisket and Alex will sneak her a beer when Maria isn't looking. It's their usual song and dance, and Mimi forgets all about the troubles Alex came to her with. And when Alex all but rushes out the front door, she figures there's nothing to worry about. After all, Alex should have everything under control. Always has, always will.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Running on precisely _zero_ hours of sleep, Michael is rapidly approaching his wits' end.

It doesn't help that he's been avoiding his husband, who is one of two people capable of soothing his nerves and keeping him grounded. As it turns out, ignoring Alex is just one of many mistakes he's managed to make in the past twenty-four hours. On top of neglected voicemails and unanswered texts, Michael has an emotional Isobel and enraged Max on his hands. One is dismayed to discover their role in a decade-old murder, the other furious for being kept in the dark about mind-warping their teenage crush. Michael knows he's at fault on both ends, but the three of them have done nothing but go around in circles for the better part of a day and a half. Even now, as the sun hangs low in the sky and marks the end of the evening, they're no closer to reaching common ground.

Palms pressed against his eyelids, Michael attempts to rub his drowsiness away. After all, it's much harder to get his points across when he's just about ready to pass out.  
  
"I can't believe it," Isobel quietly mutters, though it's mostly to herself. Her back is against Michael's on the couch, but she's barely spoken a word to him. "I'm a murderer, a — a _monster_."  
  
"Don't say that," he scolds. "You weren't you, Iz. You had no idea what you were doing."  
  
"I made Liz Ortecho leave because I thought it'd keep you two safe," she continues, completely side-stepping what he's said, "but I was just saving myself, wasn't I? God, how could I be so selfish and not even realize it?"  
  
From where he's brooding at his desk, Max scoffs. "Good question."  
  
"Lay off already," Michael quickly interjects.  

"Make me," Max childishly spits. 

"Please don't fight," Isobel pleads, but knows it's futile. Her brothers have been gearing for a fight since their argument the night before. This is an inevitable reaction to a decade's worth of pent-up aggression, guilt, and denial. 

In response, Max pushes himself away from the desk and promptly kicks his chair over, storming outside the double-doors of his library. Isobel falls silent after that, curling in on herself. Against his better judgement, Michael decides to follow after him.

"I get that you're mad," he starts, shutting the doors behind him. It's better if Isobel doesn't hear the words they're about to exchange. "You don't have to take it out on Isobel, though. What she did was—"

"Wasn't it bad enough that we covered up her sister's murder?" Max abruptly questions, spinning to face Michael. "Did you really have to run Liz out of town?"

"We didn't have a choice. We knew you were going to cave," Michael attempts to explain, but Max immediately dismisses him with a wave of his hand. However, Michael isn't done trying and Max isn't done blowing off steam.  
  
"You assumed," Max grits out. "All because you were thinking of yourselves."

"We were thinking about _all_ of us," Michael seethes. "You included. What Liz is doing now — y'know, experimenting on you and accusing you of being a killer? That would've been ten times worse a decade ago. She would've ran right to the government and had us all locked up."

"I wasn't going to confess!" Max exclaims, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "You know what I wanted to do? Offer my goddamn condolences. It's the least I could've done for her family after what we did."  
  
Michael shakes his head, resisting the urge to laugh at Max's stubbornness. "Don't kid yourself. You would've never been able to watch her grieve Rosa—"  
  
"So I wasn't allowed to grieve with Liz, but you got to grieve with Alex?" Max snidely counters, taking a step toward Michael.  
  
"You think it was easy for me to watch Alex suffer?" Michael snaps. Despite Max's menacing stare, he doesn't waver. "What, you think sitting there and watching him cry himself to sleep every night was a walk in the fucking park? Watching him blame himself, wondering what he could've done differently to keep his best friend alive, while the guilt was eating me alive? I knew what that pain would do to you because I lived through it!"  
  
Max scoffs, not the least bit convinced, and Michael feels his temper flaring. Of all the times for Max to so stubbornly stick to his guns, it's when Michael's attempting some form of an explanation. Of course he feels a pang of guilt toward the secret he helped keep with Isobel, but it's no worse than the one he's helped Max keep for so long. Each was done with their family in mind, meant to protect themselves and those around them from the horrible truth.  
  
"You were going to tell Liz our secret," Michael pushes. "You know why I couldn't let you do that—"  
  
"That wasn't your decision to make," Max insists, pointing a finger accusingly at Michael.  
  
At the end of his ropes, Michael shouts, "You weren't capable of making it!"  
  
"What if it had been your husband?" Max suddenly grills, which renders Michael speechless. His eyes widen and he looks physically pained by the accusation, which seems to be exactly what Max was going for. "What if Alex left town that summer and never spoke to you again, never got the chance to marry you, because of _me_? How would that make _you_ feel?"  
  
"That's different and you know it," Michael readily defends, but his voice cracks and bottom lip trembles. "His dad was about to send him off to war, Max. He could've died—"

"But he didn't," Max hisses. "You ran off to Albuquerque and got married and built a perfect little life when you came back to Roswell. Meanwhile, I was stuck here thinking I deserved to watch Liz leave, thinking she had every right to leave me without a goodbye. Even at your wedding, she kept her distance! Hell, I bet you had Isobel keep her away back then, didn't you?"

Averting his gaze, Michael doesn't respond to the accusation. His ensuing silence is all the confirmation Max needs.

"Of course you did," Max bitterly remarks. "Couldn't have me ruining your wedding."

Had Max been allowed to get close to Liz during his wedding, it could've spelled disaster for their marriage. Michael is sure of it, and the selfish part of his heart couldn't let that happen. Alex, who'd already been through so much and had nowhere else to turn should their relationship sour, didn't deserve to watch his world crumble around him. The thought of losing Alex does, at times, physically pain Michael. He feels foreboding anxiety coiling around his heart, threatening to squeeze the life right out of him. Other times, his heart fills with so much love for Alex, it feels just about ready to burst. That's why he can't stomach going home, fearful that Alex will somehow know of the secrets Michael's kept hidden for so long. If that were the case, Michael couldn't fault Alex for leaving him, but his heart would break past the point of repair. 

"I'm sorry, okay?" Michael weakly repents. "We shouldn't have done it five years ago, or ten years ago, or _ever_. I'm not asking you to be okay with it. I'm asking you to understand where Iz and I were coming from."

Max remains silent, jaw clenched as he turns away from Michael, but he doesn't bother arguing against Michael's plea. Instead, one of the porch lights bursts in an electrical explosion and sends sparks flying around them. Yet Michael doesn't even flinch, having grown so accustomed to Max's outbursts. This isn't new, nor is it unjustified. 

"The worst part," Max eventually says, "is that I do. I get why you did it, Michael, but that doesn't make it hurt any less."

"I know," Michael sighs, and against his better judgement, he reaches out to clasp Max's shoulder. "If I could go back in time and change all of this, I would."

"I wouldn't," Max scoffs. "Look where telling Liz got us. Now she's on a witch hunt for Rosa's killer and went running to tell Kyle—"

"And me," comes a terse voice, cutting right through the conversation. "She told me, too."

Michael and Max both freeze in place, but only Max can see their unexpected guest from his position. Of course, Michael doesn't need to see his husband to recognize his voice. Time feels as if it's about to stand still, or at least Michael would like it to. Everything he's ever feared — Alex uncovering the truth, their secret spreading like wildfire, and his sins catching up to him — are coming to fruition. Every conceivably awful, terrible, no-good twist of fate is falling into place and Michael knows this has been ten years in the making. Ten years of pure, unadulterated happiness by Alex's side are all about to come crashing down in one fell swoop. 

"A-Alex," Max sputters, sounding absolutely terrified of seeing Michael's husband. "How, uh...how long were you—"

"You should go see Liz," is what Alex says in response, every bit as harsh as Michael expects him to be. "She deserves the truth, Max. If you don't tell her, I will."

Max visibly deflates, shoulders slumping and hands falling limply at his sides, as he succumbs to the weight of the situation. "Where is she?"

"Where else? At home," Alex replies. Were the circumstances not so grim, Michael might snicker at Alex's attitude being directed at Max, but he has a sinking suspicion that it'll soon head his way. "Michael and I will be gone by the time you get back. Don't worry."

Max hesitates for a moment, glancing between Michael and Alex with well-placed uncertainty. There's also guilt mingled with his concern, and Michael knows it's because the last thing he ever wanted was to put Michael in a situation like this. 

"Go," Alex implores, his voice cracking. " _Please_ , Max. I need to talk to my husband."

Though he remains skeptical, Max knows better than to go against Alex. It doesn't take him very long to flee the scene without another word, which means Michael can no longer avoid the inevitable. The years spent keeping Alex in ignorant bliss, protecting him from the awful truth that eats at Michael every waking moment of every single day, was for nothing. Because right here, right now? It threatens to disrupt the very fabric of their marriage. 

"How'd you know I was here?" Michael asks, finally turning to face Alex. However, he regrets this decision the moment their eyes meet. Alex is on the verge of tears and visibly shaken, and the pitiful sight is just enough to leave Michael breathless. "God, Alex, you look—"

"Miserable? Sleep-deprived?" Alex offers up, the snark evident in his voice. "Pissed off? Worried out the ass about my husband? Because I'm all of those things right now, Michael. Have you even bothered reading your texts or checking your voicemails?" When Michael opens his mouth, Alex raises a hand to silence him. "Rhetorical. I already know you haven't. If you had, you wouldn't be hiding out with Max. You'd be—"

Alex falters and quickly wipes at his eyes, nearly losing his nerve in the process. Looking at the forlorn expression on Michael's face, being confronted with the guilt and anguish evident in his eyes, is almost enough to stop him. To convince Alex to forget he heard any of Max and Michael's conversation, opting for willful ignorance rather than the argument he knows is brewing. 

"You'd be home with me," Alex soon finishes. With a bitter laugh, he goes on to say, "I thought you were cheating on me, you know. Can you blame me? You've been so distant lately that when you didn't come home last night, I thought it was because you were in someone else's bed. I convinced myself that...that you already had one foot out the door, so this was your way of sending the message loud and clear."

"You thought I was cheating on you?" Michael echoes, eyes widening in horror. "Alex, I — Jesus fucking Christ, you're my everything. I'd _never_ do that to you."

"I know that now," Alex muses, but the smile he musters doesn't reach his eyes. "But lying to me for ten years? You'd definitely do that."

"I didn't want to," Michael desperately claims. "The lies have been killing me. If I could, I would've told you—"

"But you didn't," Alex interjects. Once more, he wipes at his eyes and chokes back a sob. "What was it? What convinced you to keep me in the dark? Could you not trust me, is that it? Was it better to sneak around and leave me out of the loop and let me think you were falling out of love with me? Is that better than letting me find out from Liz that you're an...an  _alien_?"

"It's not," Michael sighs, running a hand through his curls. "I was convinced that if I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"I don't think I would," Alex quickly replies. "I came here ready to prove Liz wrong, but then I heard you and Max arguing and it..." Taking a shaky breath, Alex can't bring himself to look at Michael any longer. "It confirmed everything she told me. I didn't want to believe her, because we've been together for ten years and married for four of them. If you were this _thing_ she claimed you were, then I would've know. I-I would've seen the signs because you're my husband and husbands tell each other everything, don't they?"

"I didn't tell you because I was afraid of losing you," Michael blurts, rushing forward to grasp Alex's hands. Though Alex tries pulling away, he manages to take hold of a wrist and tug him closer, and Alex doesn't bother putting up a fight. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I thought if you learned about what I am or what I did to protect Max and Isobel, you'd..."

"Leave and never look back," Alex finishes, prompting Michael to nod. "Funny how it's been the other way around. I've been losing you since Liz came back to Roswell, but I guess that all makes sense now. No wonder why you wanted her to leave Max alone."

Before Michael can think of a response or process the harsh reality of Alex's argument, the double-doors open up to reveal a teary-eyed Isobel clutching a blanket around her shaking frame. If it isn't bad enough to see Alex in tears, watching Isobel openly cry outright crushes Michael's spirits. However, she looks unusually determined. Just minutes ago, she'd been sulking on the couch without a clue on what to do with herself. Now she exudes so much conviction, Michael fears she's about to expose herself for his sake. 

"Go back inside," Michael whispers pleadingly. "This is between me and Alex, Iz."

"No, it isn't," Isobel snaps, giving Michael a pointed glare. "These walls aren't as thick as you or Max think. I've heard everything and already know what you're about to do. You're going to deflect the blame away from me and take the fall, even if it costs you Alex.

"And don't deny it," she snaps, just as Michael opens his mouth. "No offense, but you and Max _suck_ at making decisions for me. You're even worse at lying, but I know Alex will believe anything at this point. If you tell him you killed Rosa Ortecho, he won't even question it. Where does your marriage go from there? Hm?"

Surprisingly, both Alex and Michael remain silent. They exchange nothing more than an indecisive look, because truth be told? Neither of them know where this conversation is headed or where these revelations will take them. 

"My point exactly," she remarks, rolling her eyes.

Turning to Alex, she takes a deep breath and gently nudges Michael away. Having grown so comfortable around her, Alex doesn't even bat an eye; he allows her to slide her hand across his shoulder and cup his cheek, their eyes locking almost instantly. The only sign of his mounting concern is when he swallows the lump in his throat and blinks back tears, but he trusts Isobel. As their most vocal supporter, she's given him every reason to.

"I killed Rosa Ortecho and those girls," she whispers, as if anyone else might be around to hear her confession. "Not Max. Not Michael. _Me_."

At first, Alex doesn't believe her. The Isobel he knows would never hurt anyone. This is the same woman who helped them settle back down in Roswell without a single complaint. Who always jokes about being their surrogate once he and Michael are ready for children. Who has come to love Alex like another brother. She couldn't hurt a fly, so how could she hurt Rosa and those girls? 

"I don't remember doing it," she continues, apparently sensing his disbelief. "I don't know why I did it, but I did and I can't take that back. Michael and Max couldn't keep me in the dark forever, just like Michael couldn't keep our secret from you forever. If there's one good thing to come out of Liz Ortecho digging into all of this, it's that the truth is finally out there. I can't run from it anymore. None of us can."

Alex glances at Michael over her shoulder, hoping to find that he'll deny Isobel's claims and insist she has nothing to do with this. Unfortunately, Michael can offer him nothing more than a sad, pitiful excuse of a smile and shrug, almost like he's lost the will to fight anymore. And that's when it all hits Alex. The very woman he's praised for so long is responsible for Rosa's death, and now the family that welcomed him with open arms doesn't feel quite like a family anymore. 

"I can take it from here," Michael mutters, already reaching for Alex. He can tell that the gears are turning in Alex's head, that his husband is finally succumbing to the severity of it all, and it'll only be a matter of time before he crumbles. 

"We should go home," Alex suddenly suggests, because he's not so sure he can stomach being around Isobel right now. At least, not until he's given a better explanation. Something tells him there's more to this than Isobel or Michael are letting on. "We'll take my car and come back for yours tomorrow."

Michael doesn't fight him on it. Neither does Isobel; she's too busy holding back more tears. Though she reaches for Alex, he visibly flinches from her touch and Michael steps between them, but Alex can't tell if it's for her sake or his own.

"I'm sorry," is all Isobel manages before slipping back inside the house.

Alex doesn't doubt the sincerity of her words. He just doesn't know if he can accept her apologies.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"So," Michael sighs, slumping in his chair. "What do you want to know first?"

On the ride home, Alex had prepared himself for this very moment. When Michael kept sneaking brief glances at Alex and tried to initiate a conversation, he purposely avoided his husband's gaze. Instead, he kept his eyes trained out the window and watched as endless miles of desert passed them by, all while mapping out what he did (and didn't) want to know. But now that he's sitting across from Michael and offered up Michael's secrets on a silver platter, Alex is at a loss for words.

"Alright, cool," Michael says just moments later. "Guess I'll start from the beginning then."

And he does. Alex listens intently while Michael adds bits and pieces to the childhood he's barely spoken of, going as far as detailing his own lapses in memory. Between his time in the supposed pods and in the foster system, Michael doesn't remember much, but he shares what he hasn't already told Alex. He goes into vivid detail about the horrific situations his powers put him in — exorcisms, beatings, and the like. There's mentions of his powers, along with Isobel's and Max's, and Alex realizes a lot of the odd occurrences he's chalked up as coincidences over the years are directly linked to said powers.

"You use your powers to take out the trash and clean up around the house," Alex accuses, though there's no malice in his voice. Humor, more like.

"When you're not looking," Michael confirms, "but you'd totally do the same if you were in my shoes. Chores aren't fun."

Alex concedes with a shrug, and Michael decides it's best to continue on. He talks about the foster homes he hopped between before being stuck with Hank Whitmore, who kept him around for the monthly check throughout high school. That was why he'd been living out of his truck; he couldn't stomach going home to a drunk who didn't give two shits about him. It was better to freeze in the desert than to risk a punch or kick at home, especially since he could've been sent to a home outside of Roswell. 

"Then you met me," Alex speaks up. "Right?"

"Right. The rest was history," Michael chuckles, managing a small grin. "We don't talk about high school as much as we should. Those were good times."

"Until my dad beat the crap out of me and ruined your hand," Alex points out. "Our lives didn't really start until we got out of this place."

Michael can't argue with that. Instead, he looks down at his hands and inspects the one still left mangled after all these years. Despite it's condition, a wedding band identical to Alex's still sits pretty on his finger. Even in his futile attempt to stifle his son, Jesse Manes hadn't managed to tear them apart. Michael's done that just fine on his own.

"Sometimes I wonder if we should've come back at all," Alex adds, pulling Michael from his thoughts. "Think about it: if we stood in Albuquerque, would any of this be happening? We wouldn't be sitting here talking about aliens — which, by the way, I was pretty sure didn't exist up until today."

"No," Michael relents, "but it's better that you know. I don't know how much longer I could've gone without telling you. Maybe Liz did me a favor."

"I would've rather heard it from you," Alex says. "I thought we could tell each other everything. This right here—" Alex pauses to gesture between them. "—is happening because we're  _that_ good at communicating. I've never kept anything from you, but you didn't hesitate to keep all of this from me. Can you seriously not trust me as much as I trust you?"

Panicking, Michael immediately gets up from his chair and rushes to settle down beside Alex on their couch. He allows Alex to keep at least a cushion between them, but he settles a hand on Alex's knee to keep him from rushing away. 

"I trust you more than I trust anyone else," Michael insists, staring at Alex head-on. "Even Max and Isobel. What we have, it's something special. I know I can't find a love like this anywhere else. You're it for me, Alex, which is why I've been worrying myself sick about losing you. I'd convinced myself that if you found out about all of this, you'd leave me."

For a moment, Michael has to stop himself before he gets too choked up. Alex can see the telltale signs of tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Despite the situation he finds himself in, his heart still breaks seeing Michael get so emotional.

"You're my world," Michael eventually continues, inching closer to Alex. "I knew the moment you walked out that door and left me, I'd die without you. Being your husband and spending the rest of my life with you is all I want, but I didn't know if you'd feel the same way once you found out."

"Why would you ever think that?" Alex questions. Grabbing Michael's left hand with his own, he holds them up so that their wedding bands can be seen in the dim light of their living room. "Til death do us part, remember? For better or for worse, we're supposed to be there for each other."

"I know, I know," Michael groans, turning his head with eyes squeezed shut. "I get it. I fucked up."

" _That's_ an understatement," Alex scoffs. With a roll of his eyes, he lets go of Michael's hand. "The best solution you could come up with was pulling away and then straight up leaving me to fend for myself. Without any explanation. Assuming my husband was off cheating on me or—" He points to where empty bottles of nail polish remover litter their coffee table. "—hiding an alcohol addiction."

"It sounds a lot worse when you say it like that," Michael concedes, wincing. "How'd you find the bottles?"

"Shiloh's been using them as chew toys," Alex sighs. "I left her with Mimi for the night so she doesn't have to hear us fight. You know how she gets when we argue."

Michael's brows furrow. "Are we fighting right now?"

"In our own way," Alex says with a shrug. "We don't have shouting matches, just...long-winded conversations where we both end up crying and forgiving the other person. Then again, it's usually over something minor. Not secret alien identities and covering up murders." 

As if anticipating those words to come out of Alex's mouth, Michael can do nothing more than nod and hang his head in shame. 

"I've been pulling away because I know you can read me like a fucking book," he sighs. "If I let you see how everything was getting to me, you would've put everything together long before Liz did. When I asked you to talk to Liz and you got on me about it, I knew that you'd catch on. Keeping you at a distance while I was off handling all of this alien bullshit seemed like a good idea at the time. I was wrong, though. I know that now."

Alex isn't sure what to say to that. Part of him thinks something along the lines of, "Fine, I forgive you!" will solve all their problems, but it won't be authentic. He can't forgive Michael. Not until he gets one last answer from him, at least. 

"If Isobel killed Rosa and those girls," Alex begins, "then what part did you play in all this?"

Michael swallows nervously, eyes shifting around the room until Alex grabs his wrists and tugs him closer. When they're finally sitting side by side, it's a lot harder for Michael to ignore him and much easier to get the truth. 

"It was the same night your dad found us in the shed," Michael quietly admits, and it nearly knocks the wind right out of Alex. "I'd just gotten out of there and I, uh.." Gesturing to the nail polish remover, he moves to pick one up. "I was trying to numb the pain. Then I got this — this premonition, I guess? I could see two dead girls and I...I thought it was Isobel, so I panicked and rushed to find her. Turns out it wasn't Isobel, it was—"

"Those girls," Alex finishes. "What about Rosa?"

"I walked in right when she—" Michael has to stop, choked up with emotion. "I saw Isobel kill her. Then Max showed up a-and he said we couldn't call the cops, couldn't tell their parents, couldn't breathe a word of this to anyone. I knew it was for Isobel's sake, because she didn't know any better. She didn't remember doing any of this and _still_ doesn't. If anyone found out what she'd done, we'd all be dead o-or shipped off to be experimented by dudes in hazmat suits. She'd be the first one to go. I couldn't let that happen."

"But you went to Rosa's funeral," Alex stammers. "Why would you go if you—"

"I went because of you," Michael murmurs, tears in his eyes. "And because the guilt was eating me up inside. I felt like it was my fault that all of this was happening — your dad hurting you when he found us, then Isobel hurting Rosa and those girls when Max and I weren't there to save her from herself. The least I could do was pay my respects and be there for you. Seeing you that miserable on top of your dad pushing you to enlist, I knew it was too much for you to handle on your own. I loved you too much to let you go through it by yourself."

Alex wishes he could be angry with Michael. Wishes he could channel all of his discontent and annoyance and indignation right toward Michael, but he can't. Realizing that Michael was taken from one traumatic situation to another, only to pile the blame for both onto his own shoulders? Alex is surprised Michael hasn't become far more cynical than he is. The outgoing, vibrant man he's proud to call his husband has become a little _too_ good at masking his emotions. Despite everything that Alex has been put through the past twenty-four hours, he can hardly find it in himself to fuel the fire all of Michael's lies lit up under him.

"At Rosa's funeral, you couldn't stop crying," Alex suddenly says, and now _he's_ the one getting choked up. "We were both a mess, but you were just as bad as I was. It took _days_ for you to feel better a-and I always thought it was because of me. Turns out you weren't crying _for_ me. You were crying _with_ me, weren't you?"

Michael blinks once, twice — and just like that, the tears come out in full force. Michael can't get them to stop; they're cascading down his cheeks and splattering across his shirt, dripping onto the back of his hands, and then decorating Alex's skin when his husband pulls him in for a fierce hug. Ten years of guilt comes bubbling up to the surface and he's helpless to the onslaught of emotions that follow.

"Not a day goes by where I don't think about what we did," Michael manages to choke out. "If I could bring Rosa back, I would. You gotta believe me, Alex. I'm so sorry, a-and I know Max and Isobel are too. We never wanted this to happen, we were just a bunch of stupid kids."

Even when he begins crying into the crook of Alex's neck, allowing silent sobs to rack his body, Michael continues babbling. He's not sure Alex can hear him, but that doesn't stop him. Repeating his apologies, begging for forgiveness — anything to prove to Alex that he never meant for any of this to happen. Never meant to split their hometown in half. Never meant to put the Ortechos through all of this pain and suffering. Never meant to keep something like this from the man he loves so dearly.

It's then that Alex remembers Mimi's advice. He recalls her mentioning a crossroads and picking a side and forgiving his husband, and he now knows that this is the very situation she was referring to. In this moment of vulnerability, he has a choice: stay by Michael's side and put the pieces of his heart — of their relationship — back together, or walk away and allow his resentment to fester until he becomes consumed by it. The decision is not an easy one, but it's the right one. Alex is sure of it.

"I know, Michael," Alex assures. When Michael shows no signs of calming down, Alex runs his hand through Michael's curls and tenderly rubs his back, hoping to soothe his husband's fears. He presses a kiss to Michael's temple and whispers, "I know."

Despite the aching of his heart, Alex chooses to stay by Michael's side. He's not entirely sure where they go from here, but he knows that they'll make it work. It's foolish not to try, because no matter the role Michael played in that decade-old incident, Alex can't ignore the love he still has for his husband. The love he'll _always_ have, no matter what cards they're dealt or hurdles they need to overcome. Michael's his person and Alex is his; simple as that. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Alex likes to think time heals all wounds, even those that leave scars in their wake. 

When Liz confronts Alex about staying by Michael through all of this, he gives her the time and space she needs to grieve. He lets her back into his life when she's good and ready, when it's on her own terms and she's no longer furious toward the Evans and Michael for what they've done to her family. Alex knows she has every right to be hell-bent on revenge, and he commends her strength to overcome the resentment and animosity she can so easily latch onto. 

It's to be expected that she'd run and tell Maria, who in turn tells Mimi, who in turn begs Alex to leave Michael. Mimi's concern for Alex is the only reason why Maria doesn't run straight to the government with what she's told, because she's just as angry as Liz. Her hatred for Isobel increases tenfold until she can't even stomach the sight of Michael or Max, knowing the part they played in protecting Isobel. It takes an impromptu visit from Michael — who slides into the Wild Pony on a night he knows Maria, Mimi, _and_ Liz will all be there — to set Maria down a path of forgiveness. Alex isn't present for whatever fight ensues, but he hears about it once Michael comes home drenched in alcohol and sporting a split lip. Compared to what Alex knows Maria is capable of, she went easy on him.

"I think Maria and I are cool now," Michael offers, looking awfully chipper for someone who just got their ass handed to them. "Oh, and Mimi too. They said they're coming by next Sunday for dinner. I told Liz she could tag along if she's up for it." 

Alex smiles, pecks Michael on the cheek, and says, "Good to know. Now go clean up before this place starts reeking of whiskey."

In due time, Alex also learns to forgive. When it comes to Isobel, it takes nearly three months. Alex has to admit that he can't quite get over what she's done, even when Michael tries to explain that it was something else taking hold of her. On a cool autumn evening, he pays Isobel a visit. It ends with both of them in tears and Isobel trying to come up with a million different ways to repay Alex and Liz and everyone else she's hurt. The fact she's so sympathetic, has spent so long beating herself up and trying to punish herself for this, helps Alex come to terms with forgiveness. 

Max comes next. Only once Liz forgives Max and begins a tentative relationship with him does Alex follow in her footsteps, accepting Max's part in all of this and allowing himself to grow close to his brother-in-law once more. For what it's worth, Alex can tell Max still harbors a fair deal of resentment towards himself, even after all is said and done. It's similar to what Alex sees in Michael when his husband stares off into the distance, losing himself to his thoughts while Alex watches on. 

Forgiving Michael doesn't take much time at all. The forgiveness comes naturally in the weeks following their argument, mostly because Michael does everything in his power to prove just how much he loves Alex. From breakfast in bed to date nights at the local drive-in, Michael strives to make up for lost time. They're a lot more open in public, too. Out and about on the town, Alex holds Michael's hand and pecks him on the cheek and stays glued to his side, even when people whisper behind their back and find ways to gossip about them. Roswell may not be full of open-minded people, but they're also too cowardly to do or say anything to their face. Having a Sheriff's Deputy for a brother-in-law tends to keep a target off your back in a town this small. 

At home, Alex often cuddles up to Michael and steals tender kisses and finds excuses to keep him in bed. There have been a few too many days where Michael has to cancel a class or arrive ten minutes late to his own lecture because Alex distracted him with wandering hands or sweet nothings whispered in his ear. Then again, Michael isn't really one to complain and Alex is just that happy to have his husband back. 

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Alex murmurs, pressing kiss after kiss to Michael's cheeks with each declaration of love. 

"Babe!" Michael laughs, trying to nudge Alex away. "If I don't leave _right now_ , I'm gonna be late to class!"

"Fine," Alex dramatically sighs, but not before pulling Michael in for a hug. "I have Liz and Max coming over for lunch, so try not to be late. Your class ends at what, ten? That gives you plenty of time to get back home."

"Sounds like a plan," Michael agrees. He picks up his briefcase before Shiloh gets a chance to sink her teeth into the handle, so she opts for slobbering all over her father's shoes as a parting gift. "Really, Shiloh? _Really_?"

"Hurry up and go," Alex huffs, swatting at Michael's ass to get him moving out of the kitchen. "I'll take care of her."

As Michael rushes to the front door, Alex can't help but sigh in relief. For all the trouble they've been through, it's nice to settle back into the normalcy of their day-to-day lives. And without any secrets between them, Alex thinks he may have finally found his peace of mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, folks! This is where our tale ends, but I may or may not delve into this 'verse again sometime in the near future. I'd like to explore more of how Alex and Michael go from here as husbands, especially if Jesse was to be hot on their trail like he is in the show. I found this fic really interesting because if Michael and Alex were married and had this happy life, they'd be a lot more open with their emotions and would be closer to their high school selves than their canon adult selves. That was something I had to keep considering, especially when I was worried things might be too OOC. It'd be cool to get into that mindset again, but we'll see.
> 
> Anyway, if you liked this fic, feel free to drop a kudos or comment, but only if that's what you're into. If you prefer other methods, you can privately hug your phone/computer close to your chest and whisper, "Thank you." I promise I'll hear your kind words, sense your gratitude, and smile to myself. Find me at [alexmanes](https://alexmanes.tumblr.com) if you ever want to discuss the beauty of Malex!


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